


static

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-08
Updated: 2009-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: Narcissa Black did not deal well with change. It made her an ideal daughter - she would do what she had been taught, because it was all she knew - but it did not serve her well when she tried to change herself.frank/narcissa written in 2009 for kaityb's obscure shipping challenge @ tgs





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I.  
Narcissa Black and Frank Longbottom were never in love. To assume this would be utter foolishness. No, Narcissa Black and Frank Longbottom were merely two people who happened to go to the same school, to be in the same year, and to have enough in common that they crossed paths.  
  
Narcissa was a Black sister - she was the pretty one, the obedient one. She didn't have that streak of insanity, of violence, of... madness that one could see so plainly in Bellatrix. She didn't have that 'middle child syndrome' that Andromeda had; she didn't feel the need to threaten to disown herself and do stupid things like her elder sister. No, she was obedient, she was happy, and she wanted it to stay that way.  
  
Frank was a Gryffindor. Now, the story could end right there. Narcissa a Black, Frank a Gryffindor... there really wouldn't be anything more to tell. Except that things never go the way you want them to, and Narcissa wanted things to stay the same. They didn't.  
  
II.  
The year was nineteen-seventy. The day, Tuesday. The weather was thirteen degrees Celsius and dark, as it was night time. And Narcissa was in a pickle.  
  
A letter had arrived for her that morning - it was just the average missive from home, asking about school and how she was doing and reminding her that her great aunt's birthday was coming up the week after. She would need to get her something from Hogsmeade and send it home - and, for the love of Merlin, she needed to remember that if she didn't make more of an effort to befriend Lucius Malfoy, her marriage was going to be an awkward one.  
  
It really wasn't her fault that she wasn't the best of buddies with the boy that she was betrothed to - she had said hello to him occasionally, and she'd always been nice to him... besides, there was plenty of time before she got married. She didn't expect to do that until she was at  _least_  twenty. Maybe thirty. He was in a different year, though, and they didn't have much reason to talk to each other during school term. What was there to discuss? 'So, you know for when we get married and stuff... Do you want carnations or roses at the wedding?' She thought not. She had no clue as to how Druella Black had found out she wasn't already snogging him in broom cupboards, but she was used to her mother knowing everything by now. After she had discovered Andromeda was making a habit of fooling around with a Muggleborn in her spare time, the... security had been upped, for lack of a better term. Her mother now knew everything about anything, and it was rather scary.  
  
Perhaps that was what began it - the suffocating presence of her mother. It was a possibility, but it wasn't right. Narcissa knew she was only doing it because she loved her, only doing it for the good of the Black family. There were more holes in that family tapestry than the older woman would like to admit.  
  
No, it really began when she spoke to her elder sister in the common room that night. Andromeda was to blame for everything, Narcissa decided later. Absolutely everything.  
  
"Narcissa?" If Narcissa had to describe the tone Andromeda had used when she interrupted her in the middle of an essay, she wouldn't have said unsure. She wouldn't have said wary, either. It was... somewhere between confidence and caution, if a place such as that existed. The blonde was almost certain that Andromeda lived in that place between confidence and caution; she had probably set up a tent and perfected the art of cooking marshmallows over a campfire.  
  
Not that a Black had ever roasted a marshmallow over a campfire - that was ridiculous.  
  
"Yes?" she answered, not turning around. Andromeda hadn't been disowned yet - though they all knew it was coming - so she had to acknowledge her presence occasionally.  
  
"What did the letter say this morning? The one from Mother."  
  
Andromeda hadn't gotten a letter. Narcissa was pretty sure they weren't talking at the moment.  
  
"You know, the usual. Great Aunt Cassiopeia's birthday - you should probably get a present for her, by the way - and she's bothered that I'm not head over heels with Lucius... that sort of thing. Why do you want to know?" She would have thought that Andromeda, having brought this whole thing about, wouldn't miss the letters from their mother.  
  
The brunette shrugged, answering, "Oh, just wanted to know - I sort of like Great Aunt Cassiopeia... sometimes... It's damn nice not to have Mother breathing down my neck even when she's not here, though. Don't you feel that sometimes? Like she's always there, judging you. You're always doing something wrong. God, I hated it."  
  
Narcissa didn't answer - it wasn't prudent to insult her family. Andromeda continued, though, and Narcissa listened. She shouldn't have, but she did.   
  
"Don't you get sick of that?" she asked, and Narcissa bit her lip, looking down at her homework. "Oh, I forgot - you're Cissy the Perfect." She laughed bitterly, as if this was a bad thing. Of course Narcissa was perfect - she prided herself in being so. But when Andromeda left, the fifth year looked over her shoulder, noting the smile that continuously hovered on Andromeda's face these days. She never used to smile back when she was a proper Black. Well, sometimes, but not half as often as she did now. She was nicer, too - nicer to everyone except her family, at least.  
  
And so maybe that was the beginning. Looking at Andromeda Black and seeing happiness in unconformity. It wasn't a concept she had ever come across, and as she lay in bed later that night, she wondered whether that was the answer. She was happy being the perfect, obedient one, but Andromeda had made it seem like a quality worthy of disdain.  
  
Besides, the way her mother was going, as soon as she got out of Hogwarts her life would be over - she would marry Lucius, go on to produce blonde, pureblood babies and live her life as a proud Malfoy nee Black.   
  
She wasn't sure if she liked seeing that far into the future. Wasn't that the whole idea of living? So you could find out what happens next?  
  
III.  
Narcissa was quite sure, the next morning, that last night had been a mistake. She had been stressed by the essay she had left to the last minute, or overtired. The idea that there could be something to the ridiculous actions of Andromeda was just stupid; she had been brought up to uphold the Black family honour, and uphold it she would. She would make the Black family proud, even if Andromeda wouldn't.  
  
Oh, how easy it is to say that as you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. At breakfast, she found it harder as Andromeda's mouth was still turned up at the corners. As the elder sister left to greet that Muggleborn, Tonks, she found it even harder as the girl giggled (she had hardly ever seen Andromeda giggle) and kissed him on the cheek. As they left, she didn't notice she was staring after them until someone called her name from across the table.  
  
"Narcissa," Lucius Malfoy said again as her head turned in his direction. She wondered what he wanted - did he want to discuss the wedding bouquet too? "Are you free to meet up later today? After classes end, perhaps, in the common room. I believe you have a free period last?"  
  
How did he know she had a free period? She supposed he could have just used his head and put the fact that she was always in the common room on a Wednesday afternoon from three onwards and the fact that the school day ended at four together, but it did sound rather stalkerish. Had Druella told him?  
  
"Yes, I do - I suppose I could. Why can't you discuss it here?" she asked, unsure whether this was going too far - though surely she couldn't get in trouble for being rude to a boy at breakfast. Could she?  
  
"It's not breakfast table discussion," he said shortly, and Narcissa frowned as she went back to her food, trying to work out what sort of discussion was unsuitable for the breakfast table. Why Lucius wanted to speak with her in the first place was also a mystery - there was nothing she could think of that demanded a heart-to-heart. Or even a few words.  
  
Lucius consumed her thoughts all day - she was called up for not paying attention in class ("This is your O.W.L. year, Miss Black. Please pay attention!"), and her friends kept asking her what she was thinking about. She didn't want to confide in them, though; if she did, she was sure the thoughts of last night would slip out somehow. And then her mother would find out and she would get the same treatment as Andromeda.  
  
She slipped out of her last class, Herbology, at last, and lingered as she made her way back up to the castle and towards the common room. Did she want to have this talk with Lucius? It wasn't to offer his O.W.L. notes, that was for sure. She couldn't just not turn up, however, and her feet took her ever closer to the common room, until at last she had to enter. Malfoy was standing just inside the entrance, a smile curving his features like he had been born with it. He hadn't, she knew that - she had seen him with his friends, hexing those he felt beneath him or teasing those who did something wrong. Whoever was beneath him was also beneath her, however, so she did not pass judgement - he was doing it for the greater good of wizarding kind; for the purebloods.  
  
"I apologise for how abrupt I was this morning," he began, and Narcissa told him it didn't matter, as a polite girl should. "The company was not exactly the one I wanted to be in for this type of matter, and I thought it would be best if we were alone. Would you fancy accompanying me?" he asked, gesturing back to the common room entrance, and Narcissa couldn't help but note that the actual topic of conversation had not been mentioned. She obliged, not even putting down her bag, and followed behind him until they reached a wider corridor, at which point he slowed so they were alongside each other. It was silent for just long enough as to become uncomfortable, then the boy cleared his throat, as if Narcissa hadn't been paying him enough attention.  
  
"You know we are betrothed," he said, as if she didn't know such an important fact. "And although I am a year older than you, I think we should get to know one another." So Mother  _had_  put him up to this! "After next year, I'll be leaving Hogwarts, and after you finish I assume we will be married quite quickly. That does not leave much time for courtship--"  
  
The rest of his sentence was lost as Narcissa stopped walking, shocked. Courtship? She was fifteen, for Merlin's sake! Yes, her sixteenth birthday was this year, but it wasn't for a good four months yet, and Lucius was barely seventeen. She didn't want to think about  _courtship_.  
  
"That leaves a - perfect amount of time," she objected, sounding flustered. "Really, Lucius, I don't think we really need to think about it this early - I'm fifteen, and... Merlin, we have the rest of our lives, don't we?" Andromeda's face kept surfacing in her mind, but she tried to get rid of it; it was for the family.  
  
Before Lucius could say anything (she was sure he would), she said that she had work to do in the library and hurried off, hoping the incident wouldn't be reported to her mother. Goodness, if that wasn't the rudest thing she had ever done, she didn't know what was.  
  
IV.  
He hadn't followed her to the library, which was a relief. It was also an object of worry, though: why hadn't he followed her? What was he doing instead? Was he telling all her friends that she had just completely rejected him? What if he was writing to her mother? The possibilities raced through her mind, each worse than the last, but the blonde didn't dare go out and find him. While she was in the library she tried to do her homework - she may as well, given she had nothing better to do. The Potions essay gave her grief, probably because she hadn't paid any attention to Professor Slughorn as he explained the subject in detail. That had been Lucius's fault, though, hadn't it?  
  
And so that was the state in which Frank Longbottom, fellow Fifth Year, found her: her blonde head bent over a mostly blank piece of parchment, surrounded by various textbooks, many of them yellowing and curled slightly at the corners. Her tongue stuck out ever so slightly as she thought, and if she hadn't been a Slytherin, he would have found it quite endearing.  
  
"Black?" he asked, and she jumped in her seat at the address. He smiled, amused by how on edge she was. "Anything bothering you?" He hadn't come to ask after her health, but he figured it wouldn't hurt.  
  
"Longbottom?" she replied, his name a question, not a greeting. "Does anything look like it's bothering me? That's ridiculous, I-- No, don't be stupid." She wasn't usually this disagreeable to people who randomly approached her, but Longbottom was a Gryffindor, and that fact alone was enough to invite disdain.  
  
"I was just asking," he defended, holding up his hands. "Is that against the rules, now? Merlin, Black, I didn't think you were so stuck-up that you treated other Houses as badly as you did Muggleborns. I'm just as pureblooded as you are, I'll have you know." She knew that, but she didn't feel like being nice after Lucius. Or was it after Andromeda?  
  
"No, no," she snapped, glaring at him before turning back to her essay. "I haven't had a good day, alright? Was there something you wanted of me?"  
  
" _The History of Poisons_ , actually, but your bad day sounds much more interesting. How can Little Miss Black have a bad day? I thought it impossible!" His grin annoyed her; what right did he have to pass judgement on her?  
  
She shut the requested book with a snap, handing it over. "There." To her surprise, he thanked her and left. She had expected him to continue, to rib her about being the perfect Black sister - the one that always did what she was told, who was hiding in the library from the man who would become her fiancé...  
  
Things did not look good, she decided as she gave up on the essay. It wasn't due until Friday anyway. Andromeda wouldn't leave her thoughts, and she was afraid of meeting Lucius all the way down to the dungeons. She didn't see him anywhere, not even in the common room, and it was with relief that she put her bag down at the foot of her bed. Even though it was only half past four, she lay down on her bed, scrunching up her eyes as tightly as she could and then opening them again, almost disappointed to find that nothing had changed. She didn't want to remember Andromeda's giggle from this morning. She didn't want to remember her words from the night before. And she certainly didn't want to remember Lucius Malfoy's face as he told her there wasn't much time for courtship.  
  
She heard someone come in, but she didn't bother to get up and see who it was - the only person she was worried about encountering was Malfoy, and he couldn't get up to the girls' dormitories. That was the only person she thought she was worried about encountering, anyway.  
  
"I hear you blew off your darling suitor, Mr. Malfoy, today," said Andromeda, smirking as Narcissa sat up too fast. "Mother will be positively delighted, I'm sure."  
  
"What, has he told everyone?" the blonde asked, too concerned about the answer to remember that she was angry with Andromeda, and everything was her fault. "He was talking about courtship, Andy!"  
  
The nickname slipped out before she could stop it - she hadn't called her that in years. Andromeda noticed, she was sure, but she didn't say anything.  
  
"Yes, well... That's a Malfoy for you. I promise if you get a Howler tomorrow at breakfast I'll give you a distraction - if you run into one of the classrooms off the Entrance Hall, the sound shouldn't be heard from the Great Hall unless she's using those abnormally strong lungs of hers to shout all the way to Timbuktu. Which is a possibility," she mused, but Narcissa didn't want to muse. She didn't want a Howler at all - but she didn't want to court Malfoy, either.  
  
"How did you do it, Andromeda?" she asked, almost not believing it was herself that was speaking, saying words that were practically blasphemy. "How did you get the courage to defy Mother? I still don't understand why you did it with a Mudblood--"  
  
There was an angry interjection of, "He's not a  _Mudblood_ ," at this, but she continued anyway.  
  
"--but I think you were onto something. Surely... Surely living my own life couldn't be that bad? It's not my life at the moment; it's Mother's." She was looking down, speaking fast. If she stopped, she may never have the courage to start up again. "I don't-- I don't know if I want to live Mother's life." She looked up to find Andromeda beaming at her, which she thought was entirely uncalled for. She didn't want to be having these doubts - living her best as an obedient Black sister had been enough for her for fifteen years, and she didn't want to start doing something different. Different was bad. Proven things worked, and she needed her life to keep working.  
  
"I didn't want to live like that any more, Cissy - I couldn't keep condemning people that didn't deserve it. Muggleborns didn't ask to be Muggleborns, and they're every bit as good as we are. Better, maybe - they have the benefit of an open mind." Narcissa still thought this was rubbish, but kept listening - she needed to hear the secret. She needed to know what had made it possible. "Once you make up your mind, it sort of... I don't know, it comes easily. You just need to break out of your shell, step outside the box; after that first step, it's easy."  
  
It wasn't much of a secret, she decided. Disappointing, in fact. She didn't have the guts to do what Andromeda had done - she didn't even know where the edges of the box were. Andromeda stood to leave, though she turned back to her younger sister and added, "Malfoy's down in the common room - I'd suggest you stay here until it's safe."  
  
And Narcissa was grateful, even if Andromeda had become a Mudblood-lover.  
  
V.  
'Safe' never really came. Lucius was in the same House as her, after all; she couldn't avoid him at meals, and she walked in on him in the common room more than once. She spent the next week in fear that he would approach her, or worse, that she would receive a Howler from her mother. Neither events occurred, however. Why didn't her mother tell her off? She got a letter after she had sent Great Aunt Cassiopeia's present home, telling her that it was suitable and that her mother hoped she was focusing on her studies, but no mention of Malfoy. Perhaps she hadn't heard?  
  
The blonde didn't want to keep living in suspense, waiting for doom to come. She didn't want Andromeda's words to keep going around and around her head each night before she went to sleep. She needed to act or to abandon, and she wasn't sure she had the courage to do either. She had two perfect examples of what happened either way: Bellatrix had married Lestrange only a few months ago, was obsessed with blood purity, and had become a Death Eater to prove it. Andromeda was about to be disowned, and was one of the happiest Blacks Narcissa had ever seen.  
  
So Narcissa dabbled in rebellion.  
  
She didn't want to get kicked out of the family, or burnt off the tapestry. If rebellion was a mistake, then she wouldn't have anywhere to go. She figured she needed to start small - have a tiny taste before she decided to drink the poison all in one go.  
  
Even this was difficult - damn her and her need to conform. And then, during Transfiguration, it hit her.  _"I'm just as pureblooded as you are, I'll have you know."_  
  
Frank Longbottom.  
  
She had Potions with him after lunch, and she checked her watch every few minutes, anxious for the class to end. She wasn't sure how she would approach this - what was she trying to do? Rebel... Rebellion meant liking mudbloods (something she wasn't prepared to do), consorting with Mudbloods (again, not something she was prepared to do) or those who were not 'worthy' of a Black. Gryffindors definitely came into that.  
  
"Longbottom?" she called, trying to get his attention as he left the dungeon. He spun around, frowning a little at her address. She hadn't been the nicest person last time they had spoken.  
  
"Miss Black," he greeted, nodding in her direction. "Anything you needed? I returned  _The History of Poisons_  to the library, if you were after that."  
  
"No," she said stiffly. "I--" Narcissa Black was lost for words.  
  
"You wanted to tell me that you were sorry for being so short with me? Or... Oh, maybe that Gryffindors aren't the scum of the earth?" He grinned as he said it, but Narcissa's face reddened. If he wasn't so infuriating, perhaps this would be easier.  
  
"Yes." That was...surprisingly easy. "I apologise for my behaviour, and I was wondering if...if you would like to come to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday."  
  
It was hard to say who was more shocked at the words: Narcissa or Frank. Frank recovered first, though.  
  
"You want to ask me - a Gryffindor - out on a date to Hogsmeade this weekend. A date. With a Gryffindor."  
  
She couldn't believe him - as if it hadn't been embarrassing enough the first time! She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  
  
"Why?" he asked, and she refused to accept he had every right to be suspicious. She was a Black and a Slytherin, so he would be stupid not to doubt her.  
  
"Because... because... perhaps I need a more open mind. Towards, you know, non-Slytherins and such."  _Muggleborns didn't ask to be Muggleborns, and they are every bit as good as we are. Better, maybe - they have the benefit of an open mind._  
  
He still didn't look convinced, and Narcissa couldn't blame him. She needed him to be convinced, though. Rebellion was far too much work so far.  
  
"I'm not going to brutally murder you and dispose of your body behind the Hog's Head, if you were wondering," she said, getting fed up. He smiled at this, which only infuriated her more - couldn't she get out of here? Her mother would find out!  
  
"As long as you promise not to murder anyone whilst in my company, I see no reason to say no," he allowed, and Narcissa would have sighed in relief if it hadn't been a sign of weakness.  
  
VI.  
Perhaps she didn't want to rebel. Perhaps it was too much effort. Perhaps she would be better off doing what she had always done. Andromeda was stupid - she was just making trouble. That was what Narcissa thought, until she saw Malfoy. She would forget he existed until she saw him pass in the corridor, or lounge on one of the good armchairs in the common room, and every time she looked away and hoped he didn't see her.   
  
That was why she was rebelling. She didn't want to become Bellatrix.  
  
It was at breakfast the next morning that the rumours began - Narcissa Black had been seen talking to Frank Longbottom. Narcissa Black had been seen asking him out to Hogsmeade. Narcissa Black had been seen pulling him against the wall outside the Transfiguration classroom and snogging him senseless.  
  
Not all of the rumours were true. That was why they were rumours, and not facts. Since so few Slytherins had actually be around to witness the actual event (Narcissa had made sure of that), no one could say definitively what exactly had happened between them. No one thought to ask either party, because there was a part of the rumour that thrived on the uncertainty - if either of them proclaimed it was all utter tosh, there would be nothing to talk about.  
  
There was an upside to the fact that half of the Slytherin common room thought Narcissa had all but shagged Frank Longbottom: it never reached the ears of Druella. Why bother reporting a rumour? Narcissa didn't know this, of course - she didn't know how her mother knew everything, so she couldn't have come to that conclusion. It was all she could do not to burn from shame every time she came down from the girls' dormitories, because she knew that the whispers in the corner were about her, and the giggles were not because she had recently cracked a funny joke.  
  
The days spent waiting for Saturday to arrive were agony for the blonde. She tried not to run into Longbottom over the course of the week, though she tried not to actively avoid him either in case he got the wrong idea. Surely the rumours would be following him too? She didn't really know, but whenever she did come across him in the corridor she tried to smile, or at least not glare at him. He smiled back, because he smiled at everyone - he was that kind of annoying, happy person.  
  
Saturday was rather dreary. Overcast and cold, it dawned without any particular flair, because it did not know what it held for a particular fifteen-year-old girl. Narcissa rose and tried not to pay too much attention to what she wore - dressing up would bring attention to herself. And it wasn't necessary for Longbottom to find her attractive for her dabble in rebellion, was it?  
  
Longbottom waited for her in the Great Hall, greeting her with a grin and taking her arm on the way down past the gates, possibly out of habit. She had, in one of her brief conversations with him, asked him to meet her as early as possible, so there were not many people there to witness her standing so close to him. As they strolled towards the village, she found herself enjoying his company. This was a very strange realisation, and Narcissa frowned slightly as he continued to chatter. He was easy to talk to, and contrary to what she had always thought, his happiness wasn't obnoxious. He was simply cheerful.  
  
He didn't mention the fact that she was a Slytherin, a Black, or that she had hardly spoken to him before. He did not try to look down her top, not even when it began to rain and her shirt got wet before she could put up her umbrella. He didn't make her uncomfortable, and by the time they had reached their destination, she had almost forgotten that she was embarrassed to be seen with him. She had almost forgotten that this wasn't a date, merely an attempt to test out what living like a non-Black would be like. And as he paid for her butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks, she smiled.  
  
"So, Miss Black - may I call you Narcissa? - what, exactly, prompted you to ask me to Hogsmeade?" he asked as she took a sip of her Butterbeer in a secluded corner of the pub (she had chosen their table). She couldn't have escaped the question forever.  
  
"Um," she said, drinking some more to buy herself time. "Yes, you can call me Narcissa, and... I... I don't know," she lied, knowing full well that telling him that she was just using him to attempt rebellion wouldn't go down well - he was a Gryffindor. "Maybe I needed to find out whether Gryffindors really were as awful as I'd believed, or that... I don't know. Must there be a reason?"  
  
He shrugged, the smile slipping for a moment. It was only gone for a moment, though - Narcissa wondered if she had imagined it. "And are we as awful as you had believed?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"...No," she admitted, averting her eyes. As far as rebellion attempts went, this was surprisingly pleasant. She could get used to it, even - but she wouldn't, because she was a good Black girl, and Longbottom was a Gryffindor, and... Lucius Malfoy wanted to court her. "No, you're not. You're actually quite good company."  
  
He grinned with renewed humour at this, taking a gulp of butterbeer as he watched her. Did he know he was making her uncomfortable? "As far as Slytherins go, Narcissa, you're not bad company yourself. You've always been so dreadfully unpleasant that I wasn't sure what to expect. It's reassuring to know you do know how to be nice after all."  
  
"Come on," she scoffed. "As if all Gryffindors are as nice as you - surely some of them are just stupid?" Longbottom began to laugh, and she frowned.  
  
"And I'm not just stupid? I know many people who would say I was. The Head Boy, for one... I snuck into the Prefect's Bathroom last year just to see what it was like. A Ravenclaw girl gave me the password - what was I supposed to do? And Professor Sprout thinks I'm a dolt - I messed up in her first lesson last year and it does appear that she hasn't let it go. I mean, it could have something to do with the fact that I'm really bad at Herbology, but I think she's just still annoyed about all that fertiliser."  
  
Narcissa didn't ask for elaboration.  
  
"You may well be incredibly dim, but your company is enjoyable, so I don't see the problem. Is it possible to get out of here, possibly go to the park instead? Somewhere where there aren't so many people." She glanced around, all too aware of the fact that there were green and silver crests on the robes of more than one customer. He nodded, finishing up his butterbeer and leading her out. She hovered a little way behind him, trying not to make it seem like she was in his company. People were watching.  
  
"I'm sorry about that," she said as they walked towards the park, Narcissa shivering and pulling her cloak around her. The pub had been warm, full of bodies and hot food, but for early March the day was chilly. Longbottom absent-mindedly put his arm around her, seeming not to be as cold as she was, and she didn't shake it off. She should have.  
  
"A change of scenery is always nice," he commented, completely at ease walking down the road with his arm around a Slytherin. Perhaps he was just incredibly stupid. Perhaps Narcissa was enjoying herself more than she should be.  
  
"I suppose." A change of scenery, a change of ideals, a change of last name. A change.  
  
"You're a strange one for a Black girl, you know that? Was this change of morals just a one-off, or would you be willing to join me next Hogsmeade weekend?"  
  
Narcissa was silent for a moment. Frank was worried she would say no.  
  
"I don't see how it could hurt."  
  
VII.  
When Narcissa passed Frank in the corridors, she smiled at him. When he stopped, she said hello. She laughed in his presence, and forgot to be worried about who saw them. Andromeda smiled knowingly in the common room, but Narcissa only blushed and looked away.  
  
She wouldn't admit it, but it had become more than a rebellion attempt. And if it was still a rebellion attempt, then she liked it. She liked fancying a Gryffindor and being free to do what she wanted. What could hurt her? Nothing.  
  
"Frank--"  
  
"Shh! We're supposed to be sneaking around after curfew, Ciss. If you talk, how will it be sneaking?"  
  
"You said more than I did!"  
  
"Oh, shut up."  
  
The dark-haired boy pulled the girl by the hand, running from one suit of armour to the next. If Filch caught them, they'd be goners and they knew it.  
  
"Why are we doing this, again?" the girl whispered, and the boy shook his head as if to demonstrate that she was a hopeless case.  
  
"Because we can," he whispered back, putting a finger to her lips. She muttered something about 'Gryffindor' that he couldn't hear.  
  
"And also because if I'm going to kiss you I may as well do it at a time when I'm not going to be interrupted."  
  
Her eyes shot up to meet his, startled.  
  
VIII.  
"Narcissa, could I speak to you?" The blonde boy's tone was not friendly, and Narcissa was shocked to see him standing right over her as she sat on the ground, doing her Astronomy homework.  
  
"Um, yes, yes, I-- sure," she babbled, eyes darting around the room for Andromeda. She didn't even talk to Andromeda much - but her older sister embodied safety. Oh, how the world had turned upside down.  
  
"I know about Longbottom," he continued, and Narcissa focused her gaze back on Lucius Malfoy. He knew about Frank. Well, who didn't know about Frank? "I don't think it's appropriate, Narcissa."  
  
"Who are you to dictate what's appropriate?" she snapped, fear beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach.  
  
"I'll tell Mrs. Black." Cold seemed to seep into her veins, and she didn't have any words. He couldn't tell her mother, he couldn't.  
  
"No."  
  
"You cannot go around with a Gryffindor, Narcissa - we are betrothed! Longbottom is a Gryffindor, and rumour is that he's a Mudblood-loving blood traitor. Is that who you want to be associated with?" he hissed, leaning over her. She stood, reference book falling off her lap.  
  
"He's a damn sight nicer than you, Malfoy." All reason had abandoned her, obviously. Never in a million years would she have dared to talk back to a Malfoy, let alone insult him in the process. What was she doing?  
  
"I'm warning you, Narcissa, the end of this won't be pretty. No matter what happens."  
  
"Fine," she said, picking up her things. "Fine, so be it."  
  
She retreated to the dormitory, wondering what the hell she had just done. More importantly, why? Why would she sacrifice herself for a Gryffindor? She had been using him to have a taste of rebellion - he was nothing more than a tool, a plaything. But if that was true, why did she care so much?  
  
No, she didn't care. She was only concerned about what her mother would think. She was only angry that Lucius Malfoy had delivered the ultimatum because she didn't want him to be so controlling. She didn't care about Frank Longbottom. Not at all. She kept repeating that whenever there was doubt - she didn't care, she couldn't care.  
  
And so, because she didn't care about Longbottom, she went to speak with him the next morning after breakfast.  
  
"Narcissa!" The warm smile he gave her wasn't returned, and as he saw her expression he didn't even attempt to kiss her on the cheek. "What's wrong?"  
  
"This was a mistake, Longbottom," she said stiffly, looking over his shoulder. "I apologise for... No. You're a Gryffindor. I have nothing to apologise for." The boy was shocked at these words: he had thought she had changed. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, what he had done wrong, but she cut him off before he had the chance. "I won't be seeing you again." And then she was gone, though if he had been able to see her face he would have wondered a great deal more about the conversation that had just taken place. She was trying hard to not show emotion, but if you could identify anything it would have been something akin to sadness.  
  
Frank stood just as he had when she left even after she was gone. What had he done? That was not the Narcissa he had come to know. He she found out that he was a terrible astronomer? That he was afraid of snakes? That he actually couldn't stand poetry? Not that she had ever breached the subjects of poetry or snakes, and the only conversation they had had about astronomy had been a short one. So what had gone wrong? He couldn't guess, but he stared down the corridor long after she had disappeared around the corner.  
  
IX.  
"It's done," Narcissa informed Malfoy at breakfast the next morning, calm and expressionless. She hadn't cared for him, after all. He hadn't mattered an ounce. He looked surprised, but smiled and nodded, not furthering the subject of courtship. As long as she wasn't snogging Longbottom in a broom cupboard, he was apparently happy.  
  
Narcissa didn't know if she was happy or not. On one hand, he was a Gryffindor and only a tool in her experiment. On the other...he was Frank. But the other hand did not have any rhyme or reason to the point of view it held, so she paid no heed to it. She had conducted her experiment, and decided that it would be better to continue like she had always had. The consequences were too dire if she didn't. She couldn't shame her mother, even if it meant having her life dictated. And there must have been a reason for the Black family's views - why would certain groups of people be so disliked if they were not dislikeable? It made no sense.   
  
In Narcissa's world, everything made sense. It was orderly and perfect, and it never changed. It would never change. She would make sure of that, and no Gryffindor would try and make it otherwise. She didn't speak to Frank - no, Longbottom - from then on. She avoided him in the corridors, blatantly ignored him in the classroom. It was as if he had never existed, and did not now. And though Andromeda cast her disappointed looks occasionally, she thought it was better this way. Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning or very late at night, she wondered if she had done the right thing. Moments kept reminding her of others spent with Frank, enjoying herself. But in the end it was always her mother's face that was imprinted on the back of her eyelids. Her mother would never need to find out she had had a moment of weakness and tried to defy her. She would know, certainly, that she was still not going out with Lucius Malfoy, but as long as she wasn't going out with anyone else she couldn't see how that was so much of a problem.  
  
As far as she was concerned, it wasn't a problem until Lucius approached her with a solemn expression, a letter in his hand. She couldn't make out what the contents of it were, but from the greeting she could tell it was her mother - only she would form her 'L's that way, making them so fancy one could hardly identify them as letters.  
  
"Your mother knows about Longbottom," stated Lucius flatly, and Narcissa could see no apology in his eyes. The gall!  
  
"I ended it with him - how could you have told her?" she accused, glaring at him. She hadn't meant to cause this. She had tried to make it so that she wouldn't find out, dammit. How would she react? Narcissa was the good daughter. She was the one that did what she was told, and took pride in being on her parents' good side. She hadn't thought about what that would cost her before Lucius's little 'talk' with her, but she had ended it with Frank, she had chosen to pay that cost. No matter how much she wondered if she could afford it.  
  
"I didn't. Someone else told her-"  
  
" _Liar_." The word was spat at him, the girl delivering it shaking slightly, though he couldn't have said whether it was from fear or anger.  
  
"No, it's true - she wrote to me asking if you had really done it. I wrote back saying that it was just a rumour."  
  
The words brought her up short - he had lied? And to save her, what was more.   
  
"I...you did? Why?"  
  
"You said it yourself, you had ended it with him. There's no use getting Mrs. Black angry over something that is no longer an issue, is there?"  
  
Narcissa wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't see a reason for him to protect her - there was nothing he could gain. Yet he had done it anyway, which she couldn't grasp. He hadn't told her why at all.  
  
"Oh."  
  
There was a silence that hung between them like a screen: one of those shadow-puppet ones that showed an outline and nothing more.  
  
"Thank you," she muttered at last, the screen dissolving. "Thank you for that, I'm grateful."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied, folding the letter smaller in his hands. "The least I could do."  
  
As Narcissa walked away, she wondered whether courting him would be so bad after all. She would have to do it anyway, sooner or later.

**Author's Note:**

> look i'm sorry about the writing quality, i SHOULD overhaul this but i'm too lazy so. 2009!me is what you get.


End file.
